


your life in polaroids

by sweggscellent



Category: Toy Story (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, Pining, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 21:58:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4936873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweggscellent/pseuds/sweggscellent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sid has been there from the beginning.<br/>Andy will be there until the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your life in polaroids

**Author's Note:**

> a collection of moments from the lives of two gay teenagers  
> rating + tags will update accordingly and i'll probably end up changing the title like fifty times before i find something i like tbh  
> anyway, i also have a [tumblr](trashcollect.tumblr.com)

The first time Andy drinks, it’s with Sid, which is surprising to absolutely neither of them.

They’re lying on their backs in Sid’s empty house, sixteen, his drunkard father probably gallivanting around somewhere. Their legs are above them, calves resting on the couch cushions, and Andy is pink-cheeked, giddy with it. He reaches out to touch Sid’s face gently, thumb resting against his lower lip.

“You’re really pretty,” Andy says, grinning wide, and Sid rolls his eyes, ignoring the way his already-warm cheeks get even warmer.

“You’re drunk.”

“Yeah,” Andy says, laughing again and turning his head to stare at the spackle ceiling. “But I mean it.” His hand is still lazily cupping Sid’s jaw.

Sid keeps his head turned so he can stare at Andy, at the way his cheeks are bright underneath his freckles, at his too-blue eyes. _He’s_ the pretty one, really, and he looks so happy to be here, in Sid’s shitty house under slightly too-yellow lighting. Sid wants to tell him, wants to release all the bubbling, pent-up feelings he’s been experiencing for the past few months, but Andy can’t keep still for long and ends up turning back to Sid after just a few moments. He takes his hand away from Sid’s face, finally, and moves his hips comically to shift closer to him. Andy’s nose brushes the older boy’s.

“What time is it?” Andy asks once his shoulder is pressed firmly to Sid’s.

“I don’t know. Why does it matter?”

“Just curious. Is there more wine?”

Sid snorts, trying to keep himself from smiling at Andy’s endearing childishness, and turns his head away, pretending to glance at a clock across the room that doesn’t actually exist. Andy’s wide blue eyes are making Sid want to kiss him.

“You drank it all,” Sid says, not unkindly.

“Oh.”

They’re silent for a few minutes after that, but Sid can feel Andy’s fidgety energy next to him, is hyper-aware of the way his sleeve shifts every time Andy brushes against it.

Finally, Andy says, “I’m bored.”

“Okay,” Sid says, and he swings his legs off the couch and pushes himself up, offering a hand to the younger boy.

Andy takes it, smiling, but when Sid pulls him up, Andy overcorrects and stumbles forward into the dark-haired boy’s arms. He starts laughing uncontrollably.

“Dude,” Sid says, the rush of standing making him giddy, too, “You are so wasted.” Andy is so, so warm in his arms.

“I know,” Andy laughs, right next to Sid’s ear, and Sid has to disconnect himself from Andy before he lets himself do anything stupid.

They end up retreating upstairs to Sid’s bedroom, turning on some B-horror film that neither of them really pays attention to; Andy is too busy studying everything in Sid’s room, moving his head slowly as if adjusting to the swimming feeling of being drunk; Sid is too busy watching him.

“Have you ever kissed anyone?” Andy asks at some point, pulling his blue eyes to look at Sid as the woman on screen starts shrieking, bright red blood erupting from her jugular.

“Yeah,” Sid asks, the question electrifying him a little in places like his fingertips and knees, the nape of his neck. “Have you?”

“Once,” Andy says, flopping backwards onto Sid’s mattress. “But I was really little, like five or six. I don’t think it counts.”

Sid makes a contemplative noise, staring at Andy’s jeans.

“What was it like?”

“What?”

“Your first kiss,” Andy says. “How was it?”

Sid blanks a little. His first kiss was just a few years ago, some girl when he was thirteen that he doesn’t really remember. He makes a dismissive noise. “It was dumb. I’ve only kissed a couple people.”

His second kiss, which he hopes Andy doesn’t ask about, was a year and a half after his first; it was with a boy he met one year at some summer camp, and never saw again. That one was much more enthralling for reasons Sid doesn’t want to label, though he doesn’t remember the boy’s name, either.

“Oh,” is all Andy says, thankfully.

“Yeah.”

Sid wants to kiss Andy. They’ve known each other forever; they were neighbors as very young children, back when Andy was playing with plastic collectibles and Sid was blowing things up. Andy moved away before they really got to know each other, but they ended up in the same elementary school and immediately gravitated towards each other. Probably something to do with childhood familiarity, Sid tells himself.

Andy had stayed the same; kind of dorky, blue-eyed and freckled. Sid was always inexplicably attracted to him, but so was everyone. He gets why he wants to be near him; what Sid doesn’t get is why Andy feels the same way about him.

Sid thinks he’s changed, hopes he has. He’s still kind of a rebel; he hates authority, hates school, kind of hates everything but Andy if he’s honest. He hopes he’s changed enough.

Sid keeps staring at Andy’s jean’s and thinking to himself until he notices that Andy’s gone silent, his breathing evened out. A glance up to Andy’s face confirms his suspicions; he’s passed out, peaceful and silent amongst Sid’s ratty bedding.

Sid snorts, turns off the movie, and pulls his old afghan up around Andy’s chin.


End file.
